


my ghost

by Capitola



Series: hide and seek [6]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Come Eating, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, set in the wee hours after Crystal Kingdom, slowly a plot approaches in the distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capitola/pseuds/Capitola
Summary: “Good morning,” he says, draping himself over the back of her chair and burying his face in her hair.“Long night?” she asks, turning to look at him.“You have no idea.” Truth be told she might, even if she hadn’t heard most of it. He likes to present himself impeccably, but he looks tired, his clothes even a little rumpled.“Try me,” she says.They've both had a rough Candlenights.





	my ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this one, here I go contributing to the word count of this series! It took well over a week because I am Like That.

Lucretia hasn’t been a fan of Candlenights for a long time, and this year is not doing the holiday any favors in her eyes. She’s pulled between wanting to keep drinking to dull the pain of the year and knowing that she needs to stay sharp, now more than ever. When Lucas calls and they have to abandon the party, the more responsible part of her feels justified, but not so justified that she leaves the wine behind.

She sits at her desk, Angus next to her, and listening to the hijinks that unfold throughout the evening keeps her reaching for her glass, missing her adventuring days and missing her friends. She makes notes as she listens, a habit that keeps her hands busy even when she doesn’t need to record everything anymore.

When the Stone goes silent, she begins to doodle in the margins. She starts with Angus, beginning to doze off in his chair despite himself, but. Even though she's glad she did decide to bring him here, part of her still hurts to look at him, and she manages only a brief sketch. Davenport is still wearing his Candlenights outfit, and trying to draw him just makes her upset at how sharp she was with him earlier. She settles on drawing just a person, just a regular generic person, but before she knows what she’s doing she’s drawn Kravitz.

She stops, staring at the picture, which takes up more page than margin. It’s not a bad likeness. She considers keeping it, to give for a Candlenights present the next time she sees him, then thinks of throwing it away, then decides to tear it from her notebook and slips it in a folder in a drawer, along with the other sketches that she doesn’t want anyone to see. Then she sketches ducks until the Stone turns back on.

She inhales sharply when she hears Kravitz on the other end of the line, talking to the Boys and making a separate deal with them. She hadn’t thought of their cases when Kravitz came for her soul - gods, it would have royally screwed things up if they hadn’t met him when they were in a position to save him. She kicks herself for not factoring that into her plans. _Stupid reapers and their stupid rules._ They don’t remember the deaths he charges them with, and thankfully even being reminded of it doesn’t trigger any memories for them - though she’s a bit worried about what Taako’s been up to that eight deaths in the past ten years doesn’t sound unreasonable. She’s glad when Kravitz finally leaves, glad that none of them can share any more damn notes.

It’s long after everything else has been settled, all overtime paid and all other conversations had, that she is left alone in her office once again, waiting up with the last of her Candlenights wine. The glass of water that Davenport had shoved into her hand before retiring sits on her desk, untouched.

She hears the slight warping of Kravitz cutting a portal into her office, but pretends to not notice and keep sipping at her wine. She’d suggested to him at their last meeting that he might stop by in the wee hours after Candlenights, whenever he had the chance. Maybe she’d had a hunch that they’d both need this.

“Good morning,” he says, draping himself over the back of her chair and burying his face in her hair.

“Long night?” she asks, turning to look at him.

“You have _no idea_.” Truth be told she might, even if she hadn’t heard most of it. He likes to present himself impeccably, but he looks tired, his clothes even a little rumpled.

“Try me,” she says. She stands up and instantly regrets it, feeling the world spin for just a moment. She’s in no danger of falling down, but he catches her anyways. She leans in to kiss him, and he pulls away warily.

“You’ve been drinking.”

“It’s Candlenights,” she smiles. “Not everyone’s on the job tonight.” She _was_ , but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You say that like being on the job was my idea.”

“Surely you’ll admit I must know a little something about being too committed to one’s work.” She puts her hands over his shoulders, kneading them gently. “How about you tell me what’s going on while I take the tension off?” A Lucretia who didn’t know what he’d been up to this evening would certainly ask what was wrong, and she has to keep playing that role.

“Mmmm,” he sighs as she slides her hands a little lower. “That would be...really nice. Here?”

“Let’s go back to my room. You can lie down for a little.” Her hand runs down his arm, settling in his hand and she leads him back through to her quarters.

Her bed is small, big enough for two but only barely. Only if they knew each other well. He lies prone on the bed, and she kicks off her shoes to sit beside him. She rests her hands on his shoulder blades, beginning to push down. She knows his form is a construction, but it’s imperfect - she can motivate physical responses, as Maureen would have said. On a subconscious level at least, he remembers being alive, and he slides back into the patterns of a living person, holding tension in his shoulders. He lets out a sigh as she works her hands around his back. She strokes his face to remind him of the story she had asked him for.

“Come on, I’m curious. What happened?” He’s turned away from her face, but she still resists a smile, resists letting it show that she is happy that for once her many plans and players seem to work in tandem.

“I had a bounty to settle, looked like some simple necromancer-scientist type job, and on the way to the job I stumbled upon an even bigger job.” _There is no greater test of your ability to lie than when your hands cannot show surprise,_ Lucretia thinks, working her hands over his back. _No clenched fists, no stiff fingers_.

“There were these three clowns there who had _eighty-four_ deaths between the three of them - one of them alone had fifty seven.” _Merle and his thrice-damned parlay._

“I tried to pick them off one by one before they could figure out what was going on, but I bunged it up and just ended up costing one of them an arm.” She makes fists with her hands and runs her knuckles over the whole of his back, _that was my friend’s stupid arm_ . It’s a real technique, though maybe not as rough as she’s doing it right now.  “Gave up on that one for the time being, and set out for the one I’d actually come looking for - get this, the guy had tried to bring his mother back in a robot.” _Oh, Lucas._

“And then, because my job isn’t thankless enough as is, she managed to bring the entire Legion over from the Astral Plane. And those three assholes I mentioned earlier ended up saving my ass and I had to give them a twenty-year extension as a favor.” _Good, their sorry asses deserve more._

She rubs at his lower back, gently again now. “The worst bit was that they had no idea what I was talking about” - _they better not have,_ she thinks - “and I’m worried I’m going to have to comb through all of reality to make sure it’s not a fucking clerical error. Which would be my error. Which should be impossible, but so should - ” Well, that conversation was illuminating enough while it lasted.

She slides her hand from his hip to underneath him, settling on his cock. He gasps and turns towards her.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asks.

“Do you want to stop?” That’s practically a yes, but she wants to hear him say it.

She smiles again. “I asked first.”

“Are you sober enough for that right now?” _Always so worried_ , she thinks.

“What do you want me to do, recite the common alphabet backwards?” She leans over him, her mouth close to his ear. “Do _you_ want me to stop?”

“...No,”

“Then let me make you feel better. I could use little release after the night I’ve had, and it certainly sounds like you could too.” She palms his crotch, squeezing just enough so that he’ll know she means business. “Haven’t we talked enough?”

“You tell me,” he says, leaning up to kiss her. “You haven’t told me much about your night.”

“Oh, your story was much better,” she says as she unzips his pants. “Trust me, you’re better off hearing none of it.”

She climbs up so that she is fully on the bed, straddling him around his knees.

She reaches her hand down his boxers and jerks at his cock, none too gently. She kisses him again as her hand settles into a stroking pattern.

She runs her thumb around the head of his shaft, relishing in the little whimpers he makes against her mouth. She can feel him leaking precum already and she squeezes his cock again, laughing as he gasps against her mouth.

It’s not that long before he shivers against her and spills over her hand.

“S-sorry,” he says, nearly blushing, and she wonders (not for the last time, and not for the first time either) what it is that’s so handsome about having a man falling apart underneath her. She meets his eyes and draws her hand up to her face and licks every bit of his cum off. He makes a disgusted face.

“Do you think the flavor will change if you taste it every time?”

“I hope not,” she says, with an air of mock offense. “You taste too good to be true already.”

“I can taste it on your tongue and I know you’re lying.”

She leans back down towards him, mouths nearly touching. “Maybe you just haven’t sampled enough special sauce in your time.”

She gives him a long, full kiss, making sure to let him taste himself on her.

“Special sauce?” he asks, with the air of someone who’s almost proud of not getting the joke.

“You know,” she says, pushing a stray loc behind his ear. “Special sauce, sex juice - ” Lucretia knows a lot of these.

“I will pay you to stop saying that, please,” he says, but he’s laughing too. “Do you - do you want me to do anything? For you?”  
“Oh, just let me at those long fingers of yours,” she says, trying not to let it show how long she’s been waiting. She brings his hand to her face, and slips his index and middle finger into her mouth. “Touch me,” she says, guiding his hand down. “Give me what I gave you.”

She pushes up her skirt and spreads her legs further as she sits down. He’s still trembling as he reaches his hand into her underwear.

He dances his fingers across her entrance, slipping one, and then two fingers in while rubbing at her clit. She ruts herself against his hand, kissing him once more and leaning into him, willing away all the thoughts of what the night has been and should have been and might have been and -

" _Oh_ . There. That’s it, please keep at that Kravitz _please_ -”

She comes around his hand and they sit there for a moment, a pile of limbs and fussy clothes, foreheads resting against each other. Then he begins to stir, moving to get up with that purposeful sense of his.

“Off so soon?” she asks.

“I should go, I really have so much to do - ” _Not this again_ , she thinks. She grabs his arm.

“Stay. You deserve it, really.”

“After all the mistakes I made this evening…”

“ _I_ deserve it. Stay with me, just a little while longer. It’s all the gift I can ask.” His expression softens, resolve melts away, and he lies back down on the bed. She nestles up to him, spooning him. He turns his face to her a little.

“Are you going to sleep in your clothes like that?”

“You are.”

“My clothes are what I want them to be.”

“I don’t mind. It’s a holiday, and I had a late night. Let’s just enjoy where we are.” She holds him to her, as if keeping him so close now could change anything that may and may not happen. Tonight, they’re here.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [My Ghost (comic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908777) by [CrystalCorvuwulf (BlueMoonHound)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMoonHound/pseuds/CrystalCorvuwulf)




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